


someday that sun is bound to shine

by Greenie



Series: Toaster [2]
Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Gen, Humor, Language, M/M, Post-Game, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenie/pseuds/Greenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The facility has been damaged during the fighting. Some of it looks accidental, some of it may have been sabotage. There's pressure building up in the holding tank. It needs to be released now, or else the whole facility could explode.” Bran felt cold at the panic he could hear in Doctor Li's voice. His stomach dropped. “To release the pressure, you're going to have to turn on the purifier. Do you understand me? It has to be turned on NOW.”</p>
<p>Sequel to Toaster on the Fritz</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I am the Omega...

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Sorry.

“The facility has been damaged during the fighting. Some of it looks accidental, some of it may have been sabotage. There's pressure building up in the holding tank. It needs to be released now, or else the whole facility could explode.” Bran felt cold at the panic he could hear in Doctor Li's voice. His stomach dropped. “To release the pressure, you're going to have to turn on the purifier. Do you understand me? It has to be turned on NOW.”

“Shit.” He murmured. Beside him, Charon shifted uneasily, his watery blue eyes on the irritated chamber door.

“If I'm reading this right, I'm afraid there are lethal levels of radiation inside the chamber. I'm sorry, I wish there were some other way, but there's just no time. It has to be done now, or the damage will be catastrophic.”

Sentinel Lyons turned to look at him, and Bran could read the fear on her face. It was that look that hardened him, made him come to terms with what he had to do in an instant.

He would follow through with this project to the end, like his father, like his mother, even if it killed him.

“Well, so much for celebrating.” Bran forced himself to smile at Lyons' brave tones. What a soldier. “One of us is going to have to go in there and turn the damned thing on. And whoever does it isn't coming back out. Not exactly how I imagined going out, you know? So, what should we do? Draw straws?”

“I'll do it.” Bran braced his shaking hands behind his back. He was going to brave this out, he was his father's son. “I'll start the purifier.”

“You're going to have to be quick about it. If the radiation is bad enough, you won't have much time.” A look came over her face. Relief. Sadness. “I won't forget what you've done here. No one will. Thank you.”

“Bran.” Charon's gravely voice made Bran pause and he looked at his bodyguard, his friend. The ghoul looked at him calmly, as if waiting for Bran to change his mind and order him to go in there and turn it on. But Bran was no coward. Not anymore.

“Keep an eye on Dogmeat for me. And Butch. He's trouble, you know. Fucker is going to cause chaos in Rivet City.” A pause. “Tell him... tell him I've left your contract to him. Dogmeat will show him where it is.”

“You knew this would happen?”

“Eventually. Only the good die young.” Bran summoned up a smile and Charon chuckles silently, knowing the joke there, understanding the Pre-War music reference.

Bran stepped into the chamber, but paused and fidgeted. There was still something left to be done. “Charon, one more thing?” Heat crept up the back of the Lone Wanderer's neck. “Tell Three Dog I'm sorry.” The heat reaches his ears and Bran looked away, embarrassed. “I never got around to fixing his toaster.”

What remained of Charon's lips quirked into a grin at that, but thankfully for Bran, he just nodded and remained silent.

Bran sighed and looked at Sentential Lyons. “Destroy the Enclave. I'll be watching.”

Lyons smiled and nodded, “You will never be forgotten, Bran.”

Bran smiled and nodded. “I'm ready.”

The door closed with a hiss, and Bran steeled himself. There was only a small amount of time he would be alive in the chamber. It was not time to dilly dally.

-

When the door opened, the Geiger counter on Bran's Pip-Boy went haywire. Bran hissed, the air in the control room being oddly heavy and funny tasting, and moved towards the consul. By the time Bran reached the machine, his skin was no longer tingling, it was numb and there was a strange sickness coiling in the pit of his stomach. He dry gagged, and gripped the consul as a dizzy spell hit him.

It took a few moments, but Bran got his wits about him again, and he wiggled his numb fingers. “2-1-6.” He murmured, clumsily pressing the buttons. The machine kicked to life right as Bran's knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor with a loud noise.

“I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end... I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely...” Bran whispered, his voice scratchy. “Sorry Three Dog... but this is the end of One-Oh-One's grand old tale. That radio show... you make of me better... not suck or I swear...” A raspy noise escaped him. “Or... I swear... I'll...”

Bran's eyes fluttered shut.


	2. Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta'd. Still sorry.

_“He's... alive, and responsive but...”_

_…_

_“How did he survive?”_

_“I don't know. He shouldn't have... the radiation...”_

_…_

_“Hey nosebleed, you better fucking wake up.”_

_…_

'Into each life some rain must fall, but too much is falling in mine..'

_“Are those... tears?”_

'Into each heart some tears must fall, but some day the sun will shine...'

_“Yeah... I think its the song... always makes him sad.”_

'But when I think of you, another shower starts...'

_“I wonder why.”_

'Into each life some rain must fall, but too much is falling in mine...'

…

_“Come on, kid, you... pull through this. After everything we've been through...”_

…

'I’ve lost all ambition for worldly acclaim, I just want to be the one you love...

And with your admission that you feel the same, I’ll have reached the goal I’m dreaming of...'

…

_“Hey One-Oh-One, if you can hear me... you gotta wake up. Please.”_

-

Charon sighed, his gaze firmly planted on Bran, who was discussing something important with Elder Lyons. The kid was... different since he'd woken. Like some screws had been knocked loose. Any loud noise would make him jump or twitch and everyone once and a while the kid's hands would start shaking uncontrollably. He tried to hide it, and he did pretty well at hiding it, but Charon knew better. Hell, even Butch (who was usually too busy trying to start fights) had noticed.

But, no one ever mentioned it out loud because the kid was the best of the best, and to admit weakness now, when the Enclave needed a firm boot up their ass, well, it was a fucking bad idea.

“Charon.”

“Hrm?”

“What do you think?”

Charon backtracked on the conversation he had only slightly been listening to. “I think its a good idea. But, do you think you can keep the act up?”

Only days after waking, Bran wanted back in on the action. Something about it being a surprise to the Enclave, because everyone assumed he was still in a coma and wasn't ever going to wake. But Elder Lyons wasn't so sure that Bran was okay to go back into action. At least, not yet. And so the Brotherhood leader and Bran had figured out a plan. They would ease Bran back into action, setting him on a Brotherhood post with some action until he was deemed good enough to go.

The only catch to this was that Bran had to hide his identity, which was something Charon was not too sure that the kid to do.

“Yeah. Probably. I can... Butch knows how to make hair dye out of just about anything. And he'll cut it too.”

“Kid, you've got some pretty unique scars. That one on your head, for instance. Plus, there's that 'do no wrong' personality...”

Bran frowned, reaching up to touch the scar he'd received in Point Lookout. His fingers fell to the scar that ran across the bridge of his nose before resting on the one that ran across his neck – both were gifts from raiders. “I can wear a helmet, I guess. Just be.. another Brotherhood member.” A thoughtful look spread across his face. “Call me Raven.”

“Well, Raven, if you're interested, it appears the troop we sent to the Galaxy News Radio building requires assistance.”

-

“Fuck your couch! Yeah, that's right, take it bitch! Tunnel Snakes rule!”

Bran groaned as Butch shouted at and gunned down the Super Mutants, exchanging a look with Charon. “Why?”

Charon shrugged and squeezed the trigger on his shotgun, watching impassively as a Super Mutant went down. “He's your friend.”

“I...” The Lone Wanderer sighed, the noise echoing slightly in the helmet he wore. “I don't ever recall him being this bad before. What the fuck has he been up to in Rivet City? Shit.” Bran cursed at his shaking hands but took the shot at the last Mutie anyway. It missed. “Fucking...”

“Bar fights.” Charon slung his shotgun onto his back as Butch finished the Mutant Bran had shot at, choosing to ignore the way Bran jumped as the green giant fell. “Lots of bar fights.”

“And you didn't stop him?” Bran swung his plasma rifle – the one Harkness had given him seemingly forever ago – over his shoulder.

The look Charon sent him answered his question, and Bran stood. “I swear, I leave you to him to keep him in line and you did nothing to stop him.” The Lone Wanderer exited the building and moved into the square, eyes immediately landing on the few Brotherhood members remaining outside. “Hey! Everyone good?”

“Yes sir, thanks for the help!” One of the Brotherhood Initiates saluted and Bran nodded to him.

“Good.” Bran smiled, eyes searching for his companions. “Oi! Stop that.”

Butch glared up from his looting of the dead Mutants. “Hell no, there's some good shit on these green fucks.”

Bran looked at Charon, who shrugged and took the ammo offered to him from Butch. “He's got a point.”

Amused, the Lone Wanderer shook his head and finally glanced up at the mostly intact building he'd arrived at moments before the attack. Shoulders squared, Bran glanced back at his companions, who had finished looting and were now seated on the fountain smoking with some Brotherhood Initiates. A thoughtful look on his face, Bran wandered up to the building, ignoring the knowing gazes that landed on his back and he slipped inside.

Bran removed his helmet once inside, relieved to have it off, and shook his cropped hair. Butch, after much bitching that he was a barber, not a hair stylist, had managed to dye it a deep brown and cut it into the usual hair style of a raider, shaved on both sides and longer on the top. A simple hairstyle that Butch had sworn fit Bran in some strange way.

And, to be honest, Bran enjoyed the new cut. Made him feel... Wastelandy and tough and almost unrecognizable.

After fixing his hair, Bran looked around the main lobby, nodding to the few Brotherhood members that were inside. The place was almost empty now, which wasn't really too much of a surprise for Bran.

Ever since Sentential Sarah Lyons had fallen into a coma and the sudden need for the Brotherhood members just about everywhere to destroy the Enclave, the Brotherhood had been spread pretty thin. This meant that the usual troop of people protecting the GNR post had been cut in half. Which was why Bran, Charon and Butch was there. The GNR post needed some serious backup, and they were just the trio for the job.

Not that Bran was complaining about the situation, it allowed him to fix the one thing he had thought he was going to die regretting.

Although, getting the courage up to fix this... Three Dog... toaster thing, was another matter entirely.

A deep sigh escaped Bran and he made his way up the stairs, towards the recording studio.


	3. So I heard you had a Faulty Toster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Betas for Greenie.
> 
> Whine.

The door to the upstairs cot area and recording studio was unusually quiet on its hinges, and Bran found himself able to sneak his way up to the studio stairs without causing a big scene, a surprise, considering Bran had never been sneaky or graceful when he was as nervous as he was.

Licking his lips, he tilted his head as the smooth tones of Three Dog reach his ears and fiddled with his helmet.

Vaguely, he remembered someone turning on the radio when he was in a coma back in the Citadel. Somehow, in the inky blackness that was his mind, the memorizing voice and music the man played reached him.

Bran made his way up the stairs silently, poking his head up over the edge of the rail and watching Three Dog lean back in his chair and close his eyes. “What rhymes with shoes, and often gives you the blues? That’s right, it’s time for the cashews! Okay, that doesn’t really rhyme… How about news?”

Bran leaned against a nearby wall, a soft smile on his face. Some things never changed, he decided, and the Lone Wanderer closed his eyes, just listening as Three Dog discussed how there was clean, free water now, all thanks to a certain Vault kid. Three Dog mentioned how they all should be thankful to the kid, because he was in a coma and.. well Bran started to zone out at that point.

It was nothing against Three Dog, really, it was just that... Bran had had a long last couple days, ones filled with him having to relearn how to shoot and deal with his apparent new fear of loud noises. Needless to say, he was unusually tired – despite his two week long coma and week long recovery period - and the fluttering in his stomach probably didn't help the situation.

There was the telltale sound of Three Dog shifting in his chair, then abrupt silence. Curious, Bran opened his eyes.

Either something had alerted him to Bran's presence, or Three Dog had randomly decided to open his eyes and look over. Whatever it had happened didn't really matter because now Bran was staring at a shocked, gaping (rather adorable looking) Three Dog.

“Uhm, hi.” The blonde Lone Wanderer blushed, suddenly not able to remember any of the cool stuff he'd planned to say on the way there.

Three Dog cleared his throat, still staring at Bran. “Excuse me listeners, it appears that I have a guest. Here's some music to get you by 'til Three Dog gets back.” The man gently put down the mic and moved to the giant consul, pressing a button. The soft tones of Billie Holiday filled the radio studio. “I thought you were in a coma.”

Bran flinched a bit as guilt flooded him. “I was. For a good two weeks.”

“But you're up now.” Three Dog had crossed his arms over his chest, looking unusually stern.

Bran lowered his eyes. “Yep.”

“Why... why hasn't anyone thought to tell good ol' Three Dog?”

“It's been a bit of a secret, uhm, my recovery that is.” Bran glanced at the helmet in his hands, guilt flooding him. “I, uhm, I'm kind of in hiding. So, the Enclave doesn't, uhm, expect me. It'll be... a big surprise for them.” Bran mentally punched himself. Why the fuck couldn't he string together a good sentence?

“And so... you paraded yourself across Downtown DC, why?”

Bran glanced up from helmet, knowing his neck and ears are red by this point. Hell, he wouldn't have been surprised if his entire face was red too. It certainly felt like it was on fire. “Uhm.” Bran inhaled deeply from his nose and summoned the last of his courage. “I heard you had a faulty toaster..?”

Three Dog laughed and Bran glared up at him, squeaking a bit when he realized that Three Dog was a hell of a lot closer than he remembered. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just thought you'd forgotten. Or hadn't heard it.”

“Oh, no, I heard it, so did my friends. And I travel with a snarky ghoul and a mouthy Tunnel Snake. Nothing like that would ever be allowed to be forgotten.”

“Tunnel Snake?”

“Another Vault 101 kid. It's the name of his – uhm, you know what, it really doesn't matter.”

“It doesn't?”

“No.”

“And why not?”

“Because it doesn't. And, uhm, its Bran.” At Three Dog's curious look, Bran toed the ground. “My name. Its Bran.”

“Ah.”

Bran tried not to blush harder as Three Dog leaned closer, and tilted his head. “Yeah... its, uhm, Welsh.”

“Really?”

“For raven.” Bran bit his bottom lip. “I guess because ravens weren't, uhm, effected by the radiation that much and I don't know, mom and dad were weird. Well, I guess they would. Who would name their kid after a bird? Which worked out well, now, I guess because that's what my, uhm, disguise name... thing is.” A pause. “I'm sorry, I'm rambling and nervous and I can't remember the last time I was thinking about anything else than finding my dad or trying to survive in the damned Wasteland or the Enclave-”

It took nearly all of Bran's self-restraint not to spazz out and make a fool of himself when a pair of hands land on his waist. It took, however, all of his self-restraint and then some not to squeak when chapped lips touched his and – holy fuck Three Dog could kiss. It was all lips and tongue and teeth and a bit clumsy on Bran's part but holy fucking Super Mutant on a stick why hadn't he done this before?

Bran barely flinched at the clatter of his helmet falling to the floor, his attention already far too drawn to what Three Dog was doing, which for the record was releasing the clamps and loosening AND removing up Bran's armor. More notably, removing the armor both without looking and far faster than Bran had ever done.

“Hey nosebleed! There's a fucking Behemoth of a Mutie outside and we – really guys, really? You should put a fucking sock on the doorknob. Or at least fucking close it! Goddamn..” Someone (three guesses as to who) stomped down the stairs and slammed the studio door shut.

The noise made Bran flail, nearly socking Three Dog in the jaw. “I hate him, I absolutely fucking hate him.” An awkward pause. “Uhm... I should... go help them...” Bran motioned to the stairs. “Before they, uh, start dying and, uhm, stuff.”

Three Dog laughed and redid the clasps to Bran's armor. “Go on, kid.”

Bran picked up his helmet, his face a deep red, and jammed it onto his head. “I... I'll be right back.”

Three Dog laughed again, watching as Bran scurried away, and went back to manning his baby. _“Alllright Wasterlanders. Sorry for the delay, I just had a very interesting guest. Ol' Three Dog is rather pleased with how today's going, so let's skip the boring stuff and go straight for some good stuff. And remember, kids, don't feed the yao guai.”_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd that's it~ Thanks for stickin with me through my tiny chapters and cheesyness.


End file.
